I turned the key in the ignition and gave Ian a nod. I rode out first, feeling that it was somehow appropriate to begin leading right from the start. The wind was blowing through my hair and I started to have decidedly non-leader thoughts like How will I look in my jacket? and I wonder if anyone has a spare helmet. I couldn't help but laugh at myself as we made our way down the road towards the city. I was putting the first foot forward on something incredible. That much was clear.
Ian rode beside me and I watched him as we crossed the long, deserted highway. If he could have faith in me, then I could have faith in myself. I could be the woman this club needed. I had saved our lives that morning. The next question was whether I'd be able to do it a second time.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
By the time we got back to Phoenix, the afternoon heat was bearing down on us. All that shit people say about it being a "dry heat"? That's a load of crap. When it's hot down here, it's damn hot. I was only starting to suspect what I know now for sure - one of the best parts of riding a bike is how cool it is. I'm not talking about how people look at you, either. I'm talking about pure relaxation. When the wind is in your hair and nobody's talking at you, that's the best feeling in the world. I had that feeling as we rode into town. My stomach was churning at the prospect of what we were about to do, but I still managed to be calm. Without that wind, I'm not sure I would have made it back.
The clubhouse of the Wind Riders is hardly an impressive MC compound. The building used to be an auto garage back in the 80s, but it had been shut down forever. All the original members chipped in to buy the place cheap. Trevor always said he was going to get it fixed up so they could operate it as a real business, but somehow there was never the time or money to get it done. Still, even if it wasn't a fully-fledged business, it was good enough for keeping the club's bikes running. The desert sand can be hell on machinery, so you really need a good local mechanic who knows his shit. That's how Kevin came into the picture. He had ridden a bike back in his youth, but when Trevor found him he was just an old retired mechanic who hated anyone under the age of 40. I half suspect that part of the reason he joined up was so he could prove to the young guys that their generation would never amount to anything.
When we pulled up, Kevin was outside looking at the van. Just as I'd predicted, he was entirely consumed with the activity of swearing at the bullet holes. The way he cursed, you'd think he'd discovered that the words "fuck" and "shit" had magical properties that could repair damaged metal. He was wearing the same coveralls he wore every day. I'm pretty sure they were older than I was. He looked for all the world like an old train conductor from a western, complete with the red checkered handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket and a head full of messy gray hair streaked with engine grease. He was a cantankerous old bastard, but he knew more about fixing bikes than the rest of the Wind Riders put together.
"Fucking shit," he yelled at us as we parked our bikes. I'm pretty sure that constituted a greeting in his world. "Look what they did to the fucking van!"
Ian nodded at him. "I know, Kevin," he said, "we were there."
Kevin waved his hand dismissively at Ian, as though he couldn't be bothered to have a conversation that consisted of more than four-letter words. He rounded the van and continued his long stream of curses. I decided it was probably a good idea to get inside before I got a tongue lashing about having knocked the mirror off. The last thing I needed at that point was Kevin yelling at me. I had a full plate that afternoon whether one old mechanic knew it or not.
I pushed the door to the garage open and was immediately flooded by the sound of half a dozen loud voices, each one trying to outdo one another in vitriol. Nitty and Needles were at the center of the room, re-telling the story about what had happened. They must have been back for hours, but I can only imagine that Nitty hadn't stopped telling the story since he arrived. That's the thing about Nitty - he doesn't shut up. It's not that he doesn't have anything to say, it's just that he likes to explain stuff from every angle. He'll make a point and, even if you agree with him, he'll talk your ear off for half an hour explaining all the ways he's right. He's not the kind of guy you want to go to the bar with for engaging conversation, but if you're in the mood to listen, you could do a lot worse.
Needles was standing by his side, stoic as always. He stuck out like a sore thumb in Phoenix. In a place where people are tan year round, he looked like a birch tree. He was at least three inches taller than anyone else in that room - or most rooms he walked into. He didn't talk much about where he'd moved to the states from, but everyone gathered it was Norway or Sweden or something like that. He had that unbelievably fair skin that was almost translucent, and blonde hair so light it was practically white. His real name was Bjørn or Victør or something with one of those weird letters in it. Nobody ever told me how he got the nickname, but I guessed it had to do with how tall and thin he was. It definitely wasn't for his skill at sewing. He never talked much, in part because he thought his English was a lot worse than it actually was.
Around them in the garage were the other four members of the Wind Riders - the four who didn't come along that morning. I'm not sure if I wished they had been there or not. Either it would have turned the tide for us and maybe Trevor would still be around, or it would have complicated matters too much and we'd all be buried in the desert now. Sometimes things happen for a reason. It's best not to think too hard about what would have been, were they different. You can't follow threads like that without getting tied into knots.
Lewis and Cyrano were the youngest of the bunch. They were about the same age as me. Lewis was the only one of the whole club who had a college degree, and he did his best to make sure everyone remembered that fact. He wasn't a super genius or anything like that. He went to a state school and got a degree in communications, whatever the fuck that is. After he graduated, he realized there weren't any jobs for him so he took the rest of his student loan money and bought a motorcycle. I think Trevor asked him to join up mostly because he already owned a bike.
Cyrano was a lot friendlier than Lewis, but they spent most of their time together. He'd gotten his nickname because of his nose, of course. Trevor had taken a solid hour trying to remember the name of the character before someone else reminded him. As nicknames about big noses go, I suppose a guy could do worse than 'Cyrano'. Like most of the Wind Riders, he'd grown up in Phoenix. Nice as he was, he's the one I was least surprised not to see out in the desert that morning. Some guys talk a big talk, but Cyrano didn't even do that. When it came time to do something dangerous, you could always count on him being at the back of the line.
The other two were Hector and Jake. They'd been friends of Trevor's in high school and, along with Ian, made up the original founding members of the Wind Riders. Ian might have been Trevor's right hand man, but Hector and Jake were his cheering section. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. It was hard to imagine at the time how they'd react to Trevor's death. To them it must have been like losing a religious figure or something.
Without Trevor, the club was tearing itself to pieces. I could hear Cyrano and Lewis both shouting that they should just get the hell out, much as I suggested to Ian back at the diner. Nitty was going on at length - and great volume - about how dangerous the cartel guys were and how running would just lead to getting hunted down. Jake was yelling something about Trevor's body and I think Hector might have been openly weeping.
Ian put his fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle that shut everyone up real quick. Even Nitty stopped talking to see what Ian had to say. We stepped into the room together and behind us Kevin stood in the doorway, waiting to see what would happen.
"Okay," Ian said, "It's been a rough morning. Trevor's gone and so's the cartel money. Shit's never been worse, honestly."
Before he could even continue, the crowd started yelling at him, continuing the same things they'd been talking about when we came in. This time it was Needles who managed to calm them down. H
e pushed past Nitty and bellowed in that loud voice we so seldom heard.
"Shut - the fuck - up!"
This time conversation was really halted. Leadership counts for a lot, but there's something to be said for being just plain bigger and stronger than whoever else wants to do the talking. I didn't know what side of the fence Needles was going to fall on, but I couldn't help but guess that if he was against me, I wouldn't stand much chance at all of ever assuming the mantle of president.
"Thanks, Needles," Ian said. "Like I was saying, it's been a shit morning. But running away isn't an option anymore." As he said that, he stared directly at Lewis until the college boy backed down. "We're Wind Riders and if that name and the pledges we took ever meant anything then now's the time we have to stand together. Everybody in here said they'd be with this club for life. If we can't all stand up and say that again now, when things are darkest, then you're not the men I thought you were."
Ian let his shaming sink in for a moment before continuing. I was half worried that Nitty would start talking again, but even he was put into his place by that speech. All eyes were on Ian to the point where I wasn't even sure they'd noticed me enter alongside him. I was suddenly worried that if I didn't speak up soon, they'd start to wonder why I was even there.
"The Riders need a new president," Ian said boldly. I could instantly see glances around the room suggesting that the topic of who would be in charge had already made the rounds before we arrived. "It needs to be someone who has proven themselves," he continued. "Someone who can do what needs to be done and who will risk themselves for the sake of everyone else. It needs to be Tina."
He stepped backwards as he said it so that I pushed into the center of the ring by default. A chorus of half-gibberish followed from around the room, as though most of them couldn't actually put two syllables together to express their surprise at his announcement. Predictably it was Nitty who managed to untie his tongue first.
"Are you nuts, Ian?" he asked. "No offense, Tina," he said towards me, "you're pretty and all, but you're no president." Whenever someone begins talking to you with the words "no offense," it's pretty obvious that what they're saying is offensive. I knew that now was my only chance to head this coming storm off before everyone started to agree with him.
"I am your new president. I saved the lives of everybody who was out there today who could have been saved. I took one of them down when you were scrambling for cover inside the van, Nitty. Without me you'd be feeding the buzzards right now." I had to stick it to him hard right away so I could buy myself time to convince the others. Around the room I saw that Jake and Hector looked almost as wounded as Nitty. Needles, Lewis and Cyrano looked curious more than anything. From behind me I heard Kevin swear before heading back out to the lot.
I held myself back for a moment, biding my time. I knew one of them would challenge me again and I just had to wait for it. Hector took the bait.
"Trevor was our leader and..."
"Trevor is dead," I interrupted. "Whatever he was, he's not here now and I am. I'm taking charge of this situation and I'm going to get us all out alive. Shit, Hector, I was the one fucking him but you sound like the widow here."
That had the whole room - minus Hector and Nitty - laughing. I knew I had to lighten things up a little bit if I wanted them to follow me. Being president of a bunch of morose bastards who think you're all doom and gloom wasn't going to be my way of handling things. We weren't out of the fire by a long shot, but that doesn't mean we had to burn every minute.
Jake stepped in to try to salvage his friend's pride a little and take a less aggressive tactic.
"So what are we going to do, Tina?" he asked. "If you're the new president, then what's your big plan to get us all out of this shit?"
I'd had a bit of time to think on that while Ian and I rode back from the desert. Half of me wished I'd kept written notes because I felt like this next bit was going to make or break me in the Wind Riders.
"We've got two problems, Jake," I told him, "One is those psychos from the desert and the other is the guys Trevor borrowed from. The answer is easy. We take our money back."
That had even Ian a little shocked. Whatever he thought I was planning, I don't think going on the offensive was one of his guesses. He composed himself quickly though, and I don't think any of the others noticed. I was glad for that. The last thing I needed was my new right hand man looking like I'd just told him we were going on a suicide mission. I'd be sure to thank him later.
Nitty had regained his composure by this point and dug into me one last time in an attempt to save face. I knew it was coming, and I was ready for him. I'd always been a good judge of character - especially bad character. I'd been ready to respond to guys like Nitty since I was in the second grade.
"You want to attack the cartel?" he asked. "Are you out of your mind? They've got more guys, more guns and more money than we could ever match." He managed to get the crowd murmuring about the truth of what he said, but I had an ace in my pocket that I hadn't shown yet.
"Those guys weren't cartel," I said flatly. "You were there; you saw what they did to Trevor. The cartel is a business. Making new deals like ours is what they do. Whoever those guys were, they weren't looking for business. They might've told Trevor they were part of the cartel, but they weren't. They were just a bunch of low lives who were looking to make a quick buck. Now we're going to get it back."
By now, I could see that the tides of opinion were turning in my favor. Nobody was presenting any alternate solutions - let alone an alternate president - and my plan seemed to make sense. I even believed it myself, which is a useful thing when you're planning something like this. I just had one last thing to say so that I knew the deal would be a lock.
"But you don't have to take it from me," I said, "As president I'm gonna give you all one chance to get out free and clear. If you can't handle being led by a woman... if you can't handle taking back our money... if you can't handle any of this, then you can walk away. Nobody's gonna stop you, and nobody's gonna be pissed. But this is a one-time offer and it ends in thirty seconds. Anybody who's still standing here by then is renewing their pledge and saying they're going to stand and fight with me."
Around the room, the feeling was electric. Even Hector and Jake seemed to be convinced. Lewis and Cyrano gave each other wide grins and nodding agreements before looking back to me. Only Nitty seemed horrified by what was happening around him. My ultimatum was solid though, and I wasn't giving him the chance to keep talking. I watched him with hard eyes as he struggled for a moment to find anything he could say to change what had just happened. When he couldn't find it, he growled and pushed past me as he walked for the door. Half of me had expected him to stay just to spite me, but I couldn't say I wasn't glad he was going. It meant one less member to wage our new war, but it also meant one fewer voice questioning my every decision. The door slammed behind him as he stepped out onto the lot and a few seconds later I heard his bike peel away loudly.
I looked around the room again, but saw that nobody else was budging. There were still some concerned looks, but smiles were on the majority of their faces. I couldn't believe it had gone as well as all that. Convincing the club that I was the best leader was the easy part, of course. I was stepping up and voluntarily taking a leadership role when the whole club was in danger from two sides. Looking back on it now, I was just following my desires without any thought as to safety. The truth was, I had nowhere else to go. In only three months with the Wind Riders, I'd given up on the life I had before.
"Okay," I told the remaining members, "First thing we need is information. Hector and Jake, I want you to look into just who the guys Trevor borrowed from are. I want to know everything. Lewis and Cyrano, your job is going to be finding out where those fake cartel guys came from and where they are now. Needles, I want you to stay here and get on top of Kevin about fixing up the van. We're going to need it."
"And what are you going to do, fearless leader?"
Lewis asked. His tone was mocking but playfully so.
"I'm going to get some rest," I told him, "Didn't I tell you before? It was a shit morning."
Everybody started picking up their gear and heading out on the missions I'd just given them. It was an incredible feeling the first time I told a group of people what to do and they actually did it. Being a leader has an addictive quality that can't be matched by any drug. There's an equal chance of doing great harm to yourself if you can't keep it in check though. That was a lesson I had to learn the hard way.
Then it was back to just Ian and I. He stood there smiling at me like I was a trained dog that just completed a trick for the first time. I grinned back at him.
"So," he said, "What do you want me to do?"
I'd already decided exactly what I needed Ian to do. Trevor was gone and I wanted to prove to him - and myself - that my feelings for him were gone too. I'd been carrying a torch for Ian ever since the first night I met him. I knew that my options were limited to letting that state of affairs continue indefinitely or doing something about it right away. Maybe it was the wrong time, but I wanted to show him how I really felt.
"Come here," I told him, taking his hand and pulling him into the back office. It was a small room with no windows. Trevor liked to spend time in here pretending to look over paperwork. Mostly I think he just wanted to seem more like a boss. It was an uncomfortable and dimly lit room. The big metal desk and squeaky chair behind it lent it all the elegance you might expect from a Cold War interrogation room.
I pushed him into the room and closed the door behind us. He had a look of confusion on his face that made me smile. I was glad he didn't see it coming because it made his reaction that much more perfect. Once the door was shut, I stepped over to him and pushed my hand inside his vest, pulling him close to me. He was so stunned that he didn't pull away at all, instead letting me plant a firm, wet kiss on his lips. Ian was never slow to react, except in that moment. I watched the gears in his head turning for a brief moment before he seized on what was happening and put his arms around me.
Wind Riding Page 2
